


Jeongyeon’s All-Time, Top-Five Most Memorable Heartbreaks

by camerooooooon



Category: TWICE (Band)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camerooooooon/pseuds/camerooooooon
Summary: Jeongyeon, a twenty-something-year old record store owner, revisits her past relationships and tries to understand why she is always doomed to be left while she attempts to reconcile with her one true love, who recently dumped her.
Relationships: Im Nayeon/Yoo Jeongyeon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by High Fidelity.
> 
> I wrote this for another fandom before and decided to rewrite it because it weirdly fits 2yeon, too.

My "all-time, top five most memorable heartbreaks," in chronological order, are as follows:

_1\. Hirai Momo_

_2\. Myoui Mina_

_3\. Son Chaeyoung_

_4\. Lee Sunmi_

“— think that’s everything,” the brunette girl said, as she struggles to wear her coat. 

Jeongyeon glances up from where she was sitting, eyes bloodshot from all the crying. She's leaving. Jeongyeon thought as she watched how fast the older girl was tidying her stuff. This is how much she doesn't want to be with me. "You don't have to go this second."

The older girl, who didn't even looked up, replied, "I know, but I think it's best if I do, so— " 

"It's already late. Stay for the night," Jeongyeon insisted. 

"No," the brunette girl shakes her head, reaching for her things.

"Okay, just stay for a drink or two, then."

Grabbing her last bag, the older girl walked towards the door. "I don't think it's gonna do it. And you know I don't drink, Jeongyeon-ah."

"Let me walk you out, at least? It's dangerous to go outside in this neighborhood," Jeongyeon argued, as she follows her.

"God, can we just make this a little bit easy, please," the brunette girl finally looks at her, her voice trembling, begging.

"Oh, what, I'm sorry. Is my concern an inconvenience for you?" Jeongyeon frowned, almost yelling at the older girl.

"You know what? I'm just gonna go. Alright?"

"Nayeon-un— "

The look that Nayeon gave made her stop talking. She, then, reached for the door handle, struggling with all the stuff in her hands but still tried to open the door anyway. Very clumsy, really. So, Jeongyeon had to take everything in her to do it for her. Because once she's out of the apartment, that's it. 

Even before Jeongyeon starts regretting her decision to be oh-so-polite, Nayeon walks past her. Jeongyeon immediately catches the door before it shuts. She, again, tried, "we promised."

"Jeongyeon, don't start."

"Remember?" Jeongyeon continues, "remember when we were at this bar and we were dancing to _Dancing in the Moonlight_ and we were having such a nice evening and that there was this stupidly cute old couple from the other side of the dance floor who looked so smitten with each other despite being together for so long."

Nayeon nodded. "I remember."

"We promised, you know, that we'll be like them someday, and that one day some couple would look at us like that too, and think that they want what we have, right?"

"Yes, I remember. We promised." Nayeon closed her eyes, crying a little. "I just— I can't remember what it felt like, Jeong-ah."

"Um, yeah. Right," looking down, Jeongyeon can feel another wave of tears in her eyes.

"You take care. Bye, Jeongyeon."

With that, Jeongyeon was left alone in her apartment. 

She dragged her feet back into her apartment, back to her chair. Jeongyeon grabs her abandoned bottle of beer earlier and lights a cigarette, even though she had too many drinks and already smoked her lungs out.

This is how I commemorate my return to the world of single people. She thought. I am now free to drink and smoke whenever I want. I can go meet other people, sleep with lots of them. It's gonna be fine. I'm okay. It's alright.

Then there's a feeling of guilt that crashes through her when she first puffs her cigarette, remembering the scolding voice of girlfr— now ex-girlfriend. 

Fuck. 

Jeongyeon starts sobbing again. She kept doing it for a while before she exhaled heavily.

Congratulations.

You've made it to the top five, Nayeon-unnie.

_5\. Im Nayeon_

"— with a fucking bullet."


	2. Top Five Heartbreaks

What came first, the music or the misery?

People worry about kids consuming pop culture with violence and all that, thinking that it will take over them. Yet no one worries about them listening to thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss.

Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?

Well, you see, it’s been almost a year since my break up with Nayeon. 

The thing I said about meeting other people last time? 

Fucking bullshit. 

Hmm, not totally. I’m not going to lie and say that, I didn’t try dating other people. Because I did, and where did it get me? In my bed, fucking naked and alone. The last person I slept with didn’t even have the decency to leave a slice of pizza from our take out last night.

But, still, it doesn’t compare to my top five heartbreak list. 

  1. _Hirai Momo_
  2. _Myoui Mina_
  3. _Son Chaeyoung_
  4. _Lee Sunmi_
  5. _Im Nayeon_



These were the ones that really hurt. And Nayeon’s name is in that lot. Can you see your name there, unnie? Those places were reserved for people who humiliated me and broke my heart. And, god damn, did you deliver.

That probably sounds more bitter than I intended it to be, but the fact that I’m old enough to, maybe, experience a lot of miserable things, doesn’t make this easy. Gone are the days that I can just drink the day away until someone new comes. 

I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. But now, it is like a drag on a cigarette, the slow burning that crawls down your throat yet you still keep breathing in, feeling it.

And it’s not like I needed another reminder.

I have all the reminders I need, here in my head.

_**1.** Hirai Momo_

Most of our moments together were spent in the back of the bleachers after school. We were fifteen or sixteen, at the time, so careless. How can two girls mess around in an open place like that? I had absolutely no idea. I can’t even remember when I realized I was gay. One moment, the girls around me were giggling about their boy crushes. The next moment, I was wondering how it feels like to touch one of my female classmate’s breasts. 

And then I started going out with one of them, umm, that’s not right, because I had absolutely no say or input into the decision-making process. I can’t even entirely say that we went out. We are talking about a couple of teenagers here. Everything can be a bit confusing.

I still don’t know how it happened. I don’t think I was even aware of it at the time, that we were kissing. She was my first kiss. I wasn’t sure how we started sneaking out after school to make out. One thing for sure, it was the time I wanted to kiss people: with mouths and tongues and all that. And well, I want another thing though: sex. But I didn’t want that with Hirai Momo. Not when I was still a stupid and scared kid. Not when I had absolutely no idea how.

But, hey, listen. On the second week since we started “going out,” I turned up in the back of the bleachers and Momo was there with her arms wrapped around Minatozaki Sana. Nobody— not even Momo tells me about anything at all. Then, I walked away but didn't know what to do and where to go. And I didn’t want to fight anyone. 

So, I did the only thing I can do. I muttered, “fucking assholes.”

And that was that. My “relationship” with Hirai Momo had lasted ten hours (an hour a day after school before we went home, times ten, weekends not included), so I could hardly claim that we got something special going on. To be honest, I can hardly remember what she looks like.

It’s just the feeling is just there, sometimes.

_**2.** Myoui Mina_

Myoui Mina was a nice girl, very kind and so talented, most especially in the arts, and god, I’m all for that, although then I wasn’t so sure. She had an accepting family, a nice household, and a good upbringing. And did I mention that she was beautiful. She was so beautiful that I got carried away at one of our make out sessions and slid my hand underneath her shirt, at the top of her bra. She was so nice, that she wouldn’t let me, and so I was infuriated. And then she said sorry and cried. I hated her for it, because she didn’t have to apologize to me for making her feel bad.

I can imagine what sort of person Myoui Mina became: a wonderful person. I know that she finished college, did pretty well, and landed a project on one of the most prestigious dance studios in the country. I would guess that she is still beautiful, gorgeous even, and focused, and for sure, successful, but not in a dismissive way. She was all of these things when we went out, and if I met her later in my life, I would have begged her to date me. However, I was stupid— horny back then, and the one time she rejected my advances, I snapped.

I don’t think I ever opened up to her. We went to classes, made our projects and danced to parties together. We did the same thing over and over again. Sometimes I got bored, so I asked if I could touch her between her legs. Which she turned down, obviously.

Mina would explain patiently and hopefully and maybe a little sadly that one day she would give in. But not now, she would say. She will smile at me brightly and say that she wants it to be special.

If somebody had asked me why we stopped seeing each other a couple of months after, I wouldn’t have known what to say. Because I didn’t know either.

I would like to be able to tell you that we had a long, interesting relationship, and that we were good friends and remained as such throughout the years I stayed in college— it would be nice to have her as a friend again.

Oh, I have to go to work. 

It’s not like I’m gonna be late or something. I actually own a shop called Twice Vinyl.

Okay, so, here's how not to plan a career: 

  * Split up with girlfriend
  * Ditch college
  * Go to work in a struggling record shop
  * Become owner of said record shop
  * Stay there for the rest of life



Anyway, number three on the list.

_**3.** Son Chaeyoung_

I met her when I was playing in one of my gigs. She approached me, with that greasy yet inviting smile on her face and two beers in her hands. Chaeyoung told me how she liked the song I performed which was surprising since most of the time people just ignore my set, saying that they didn’t know shit about what songs they were. 

Son Chaeyoung, phew, we matched. 

We were both alone in the city, and we felt that way, lonely. We shared almost similar mishaps in life. We liked all the same things. Beer, pretentious films. But, most importantly, music.

Chaeyoung once said: The things that you like are more important than what you are like. Movies, TV, films, literature, poetry. And it’s no good just pretending some relationship is gonna magically work if you don’t like most of the same things.

And I fucking agree. Call me shallow. It’s the fucking truth. These shits matter.

Turns out, we are even more the same than we liked the same thing than we thought. Confused? I am, too.

We didn't even kiss or start dating. And that was the end of that.

Back to my record shop. We got a bit of everything: from rock, electronic, hip-hop, pop. We’re in a quiet, unpretentious location in Seoul, carefully placed to attract, to quote our lone review from the internet: the washed-up relics (old people) and nostalgic hipsters. P.S. The staff are a little rude. They are kinda right.

“Hey, Jeongyeonnie,” the blonde girl casually addressed her and dropped her bag carelessly on the record store’s cashier table.

“Hey, Chaeng.”

Yup, that’s Son Chaeyoung. She needed the cash. So I hire her here, a few days a week. And then she just starts showing up everyday. That was three years ago.

“What’s up?” 

“Oh, yeah. I’m good. I found this really cool record from my friend’s garage,” the twenty-something year old said as she strides towards a record player with the said record in hand. “I hope it is still in good condition.”

Chaeyoung turns her attention to me after making sure that that record is playing smoothly. Noticing something, she asked, “what happened to your hands?”

“Oh, nothing.” That’s another story, for later.

“What’d you do last night?” Chaeyoung inquires.

I shrugged. “Went to another date.”

“Again?” Chaeyoung just raised a brow.

I chose to ignore that question, and lazily dragged my feet inside my office a.k.a. the stockroom. It is situated at the back part of the shop, with glass walls. So no real privacy.

While Chaeyoung is still feeling their new record, I stuff some records into the bulging creaking racks and then check on some of the new cassettes that we bought from the old couple across the street. 

Jihyo doesn’t show up until thirty minutes before lunch, which isn’t unusual. Both Chaeyoung and Jihyo were employed to work part-time, three days each, but shortly after I’d taken them on they both started turning up everyday, including Saturdays.

I didn't know what to do about it— if they really had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do, I didn't want to, you know have a long conversation about it — so I gave them a bit of a raise then left it at that.

The twenty-something year old comes into the shop humming _Come On Eileen_. Actually, “humming,” isn’t the right word. She’s singing at the top of her lungs, with jumbled words. She doesn’t know the lyrics.

“Wassup guys!” the brown-haired girl makes a face and shakes her head as she removes her sunglasses. “What’s this music?”

Chaeyoung tried to answer Jihyo, “It’s— “

“Oh my god. I don’t care.” Jihyo interjects, coughing mockingly. “Put on some real music.”

The younger girl can only roll her eyes, incredulously.

Jihyo intimidates both Chaeyoung and I, to the extent that we just let her do what she wants. I met her back in high school, and threatened me to be her friend back in the day. We’ve been, well, best friends ever since.

She likes to talk, relentlessly, and more or less everything. She talks a lot about music, old pop music, but also a lot about the latest series she recently watched and men: gorgeous men that can carry her when she can’t walk (with a wink), her words. Jihyo thinks and talks in tens and fives, and as a consequence, Chaeyoung and I too. And she makes us write a list as well, all the time: “Okay, guys. Top Five Lay!” Or 80’s music, or records made by problematic musicians or idols (“Can you see how nice and hot Daniel was on his latest music video?”), or samgyup restaurants around the area.

Jihyo grabs her phone from her pocket, turns the record player off, connects her device on the speakers, and jacks up the volume. Within seconds the shop is shaking to the tune of _Build Me Up Buttercup_. I can even hear it from the side of my room.

“You know what’s crazy?!” Jihyo asked Chaeyoung, shouting through the music while swaying her hips. “I dreamt about this song last night!”

Chaeyoung rolled her hips too, giving into the music, pointing out her clothes. “Were you wearing bright red overalls?” 

I can see Jihyo dancing and eventually Chaeyoung joined her. Both of them are singing at the top of it, too. It’s hot. It’s sweaty. Nayeon is gone. I don’t want to hear _Build Me Up Buttercup_ today. Somehow it doesn’t fit the mood.

“Good morning, Jeongyeonnie!” My best friend trips her way to my office, yelling the lyrics through the glass walls before twirling in the middle of the shop.

“Turn it off, Jihyo,” I have to yell.

“It won’t go up anymore!”

“I said turn it off, you bitch. Off!” 

Jihyo just keeps dancing and walks through into my office, shouting the lyrics: “Why do you build me up!” So, I went out of the room, and turned it off myself, and Jihyo followed me.

“Wh— hey! I was listening to that! That song was on the ‘Monday Morning Playlist.’ I made it special for all of us! Special!”

“Yeah, well, it’s fucking noon. You’re late again.”

“If I got here earlier would you let me play the next song?”

“No, but at least you’d be here on time.”

Jihyo just ignored her and turned her attention to Chaeyoung. “Do you want to know what’s the next song?”

“Okay. What is it?” Chaeyoung entertains her.

“ _Come On Eileen_.”

I groan.

“Figured.”

“What? What is wrong with that song?” Jihyo said, defensively. She was obviously listening to it on her way here, repeatedly, I bet.

Chaeyoung shrugged, laughing a little. “Nothing. It’s a nice song.”

“Then why are you laughing!”

“I said nothing!”

I have enough of this. I walked back to my office, slamming the door.

Chaeyoung and Jihyo stop bantering. “Why is she— why’s she slamming the door? What’s wrong with her?” The latter asked.

“She went on another date last night.”

The two of them just stare at each other, knowingly.

Number four on the “Top Five Heartbreak” List.

_**4.** Lee Sunmi_

Sunmi was… an odd choice. 

Not odd in a bad way, but in a wild, out-of-my-league kind of my way.

I met Sunmi after college: I was working part time at a university in the city, and she was teaching there, and when I first saw her I realized she was the kind of girl I had wanted to meet ever since I’d been old enough to daydream about dating one. She was perfect, with dark, smooth hair, and she looked stunning and breathtaking and impressive, because up until then I had a superficial idea of girls in my head, and not very considerate if I think about it now. She didn’t talk a lot, and yet when she did, she’ll say these remarkable, interesting things— about the course she was teaching (she was a Women’s and Gender Studies major), about music, about books and about politics.

And she liked me. She liked, liked me. Or at least for a time, I think she did. I want to think she did. I have never been entirely sure if people really liked me, but I know that sincerity helps (even though sometimes honesty does hurt a lot of people), and I was certainly chill: I didn’t make a bother of myself, not until the end anyway, and I never stayed at a place that I’m not welcome, well, again not until the end. 

I remembered a lot of things about her and I made a note of that and showed that to her. I told her she was beautiful and made her little presents, like mixtapes with my little doodles on the cover. None of this was an effort though, it just came naturally. I found it easy to be carried away by her. It wasn’t an effort to impress her. So when one of Sunmi’s friend, a girl called Seulgi, said that she’s happy that her friend found someone like me, I was surprised and thrilled, because Sunmi told stories about me, about us to her friend, and it didn’t harm anyone harm because it was all an act out of self desire. And it was enough to turn me into someone, bearable.

But then, I felt like a fraud. Sunmi hadn’t known that old me, and she didn’t know anybody who knew me, at the time, either. She knew me only when I was old enough to grasp the concept of what’s fundamentally wrong, fundamentally right and what makes us fundamentally human. I felt as though I was going to be found out at any moment. 

We went out for a year, and for every single minute I felt as though I was sitting at the edge of my seat. I couldn’t ever get comfortable. I was worried that I was never ever going to be able to say anything interesting or amusing to her about anything at all. I always thought that any second now she’ll leave me. And when she did, I couldn't even get mad at her. I could understand that she left me and went off with her friend. 

Thinking about it now, I'd never stand a chance. 

I’m still in my office, trying to tidy it up a bit, when I overheard a conversation between Jihyo and a customer. From the sound of her voice, she is not pleased.

“Excuse me. May I help you?” Jihyo asked.

The other guy keeps taking selfies inside the shop. I swear these fucking kids and their instagram. Without taking his eyes off the camera, he replied, “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“This is a record shop. You buy something, you leave. You do know that?”

Chaeyoung, who’s watching the whole ordeal, nodded.

“I’m sorry, I just thought it would look good on my feed.” The guy finally turned his attention to the two.

“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you ask your internet friends or your mother to buy you a fucking record and take selfies in your room where it’s free? Chaeng, do we still have that— “ Jihyo pretended to think, tapping her head with her index finger. “— get-the-hell-out-of-our-shop record? That’s on sale. Nope. We'll give that to you, for free.”

“This place sucks,” the guy muttered as he stomped his way out of the shop.

“Fucking kids.”

“Nice work, you two. Good customer service. Just fucking excellent, quality work.” I went out the front to look at Chaeyoung and Jihyo, mockingly clapping my hands. “Scare away our only customer.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Jihyo argued. “The kid’s dumb. And it’s not my fault.”

Jihyo and I stared at each other, challenging.

“Um, yup. You’re right. The kid’s shit,” I finally conceded.

“Exactly! You know, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell these kids. You need to earn something. Buy something. Have some goddamn respect. See, the problem with these kids is that the generation is completely fucked off.”

“Their generation. Aren’t we part of that generation, Jihyo-ah?”

“Nah! Because we opted out.”

Chaeyoung and I laughed at that. 

“All right kids,” I said as I reached for the record player, and resumed _Build Me Up Buttercup_. “Here we go.”

“Oh, yeah!” Jihyo and Chaeyoung raved, and went back swaying their hips like earlier. “Come on, Jeongyeonnie. Get it, girl, get it!” As I dance with them, a little. 

We kept singing and dancing to the song while we closed the shop. 

All right, fuck, let’s do this.

Number five on the “Top Five All-Time Heartbreak” list is Im Nayeon.

_**5.** Im Nayeon_

For a couple of months, I was singing at a hideous bar in Gangnam. It wasn’t as hideous as it was before unlike now, with the decent environment. I was a good singer, I think. At any rate, people seemed happy, they danced, stayed late, and asked me about my record shop. 

And I loved, loved singing. To look down on a room full of head bobbing away to the music you have chosen even though lots of them didn’t know the songs, and for that few months period, the bar was lively, I was happy as I have ever been. It was the only time I have ever really got the sense of stability, although later I could see that it wasn’t exactly stable because it didn’t pay my bills and all that capitalism shit that victimized the people without them knowing. But it’s music, I’m having the time of my life— it was fun. 

It was there. It was Chaeyoung’s birthday celebration, and she begged me to sing a song or two. They are friends, and she introduced us to each other. She wasn’t exactly trying to set us up. But she didn’t exactly have to. 

It just… happened.

Anyway, that's when I met Nayeon. She reckons she had been to the bar a few times before we’d been introduced, and noticed her, and that could well be right— she’s weird, and loud but oh so pretty, in a fascinating sort of way, but there were more striking women there, and if I’m being honest, that catches my eyes first. So, on that time she starts up a conversation with me and made me laugh, that was the moment I noticed her and liked her right away: she asked me to sing a track that I really love ( _At My Most Beautiful_ by _R.E.M._ , that fucking song!), which had been my favorite song, until now.

“Would you stop talking to me when I messed up this song?”

“Let’s see about that.”

“Well, if you see anyone going home after this, it was because I ruined such a beautiful song.”

It’s a three and thirty-five minute single, perfect range.

“Oh, they won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“This is a birthday party. Free drinks.”

So I played it, and sure enough Nayeon and the other occupants of the room bobbed their heads, but one by one they all drifted back to their conversation, shaking their heads and laughing. It is a hard song to sing, not in a technical sense, it’s the emotion, the feeling about it. Nayeon listened to me, and though I wanted to see whether she’d struggle to honestly tell me I suck ass, I got nervous when she looked at me.

She smiled at me, and she marched over to me after, grinning and assured me that no one left. She asked if I really owned a record shop. I nodded and said that she can come one of these days and that I can make a playlist for her.

I spent days putting that playlist together. To me, making a playlist is like writing a letter, but in a better way. It is a delicate art. You get to say what you want without actually saying it. You get to use someone else’s poetry to express how you feel. There's a lot of erasing and rethinking and starting again, and I wanted it to be a good one, because… to be honest, I hadn’t met anyone as interesting as Nayeon. 

Anyway, I worked and worked on that one, and I kept changing, putting back some track. I checked them through and through. And one day, she came over to the bar, and I just took a CD from my jacket, and we went on there. It was a good beginning. 

Nayeon is a fashion designer, kind of popular in the city, although when I met her she was still struggling to find her footing. Now, she owned a pretty solid clothing line with her friend. You can say that she’s very hardworking. She has always been so passionate. 

And, oh, man. It was really passionate. This was the real fucking deal.

Lightning bolts, fireworks, electricity, magic, the whole thing.

We stayed in and made love all the time. 

We went out and had fun.

We just… got each other.

Nayeon would just randomly look at me and say, “Do you know that I am completely in love with you?”

And I would just stare at her, and say without hesitation or so whatever, “Do you, do you know, Nayeon, that I— that I love you, too?”

And she smugly smirks. And I casually tell her, “You know.”

She’ll only smile.

We made a plan, that we’ll travel around the world and all those places, and that when her business continued thriving, that when we had enough money, we were gonna move to a nice neighborhood fancy penthouse with a nice view.

So, what went wrong?

She moved to a fancy penthouse after all. Her business thrives. She even has to move abroad for a few months for it. 

Just, not with me.

Truth is, I had been completely out of my depth. And after that, I was determined to never get out of my depth again. So for the past year, I’ve basically just been existing.

Ouch! Fuck! My hands!

Okay so remember when I said, “‘Oh, nothing.’ That’s another story, for later,” earlier when Chaeyoung asked me about my hand? Maybe there’s something I forgot to mention, last night, before my so-called date. 

I bumped into Nayeon.

Walking down the street with a drink in my hand, there’s a loud, familiar voice calling out for me. I thought at first that, I was only imagining it. I had these noise-cancelling headphones on, the best based on the reviews, so fair. 

“Jeong! Jeongyeon-ah!”

The tapping on my shoulder, really got my attention. And when I looked back, fuck, there she was, still as beautiful as ever.

“Nayeon-unnie,” I whispered. I was in shock. “What are you doing here? I thought you're in abroad?”

“I moved back a couple of weeks ago,” Nayeon answered. God, her voice. “The project didn’t really took off.”

I had to collect myself before I replied. I don’t know what to feel. But my manners kicked in. “Umm, I’m sorry.”

There was an awkward silence.

Then suddenly I remembered what she said. “Oh, umm, so you’re like, back-back? Here, living in the city?”

“Yeah,” Nayeon glanced down, shaking her head before looking back at me. “I was— I’ve been meaning to, you know, tell you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

We stood there in the middle of the street as we took in each other’s presence.

Nayeon broke the silence. “Well, we should talk. Sometime.”

“Yup,” I had to leave, I didn’t want her to see me crying again. “Uh, I have to go. See you around, I guess.”

“All right. Bye, Jeongyeon,” she said as I continued walking away. 

I was so mad that I didn’t notice that my hands were bleeding after punching the nearest wall I could find.

The ugly truth of the matter is this: if someone asked me to choose between not being able to listen to music my whole life and not being able to see Nayeon for the rest of my life, I won’t hesitate to remove the music out of the equation. 

I’ll choose Nayeon, over and over again.

Who’s back, by the way.


	3. The Playlist

I’m making a playlist.

Like I said before, it’s like writing a letter.

But there are rules:

  * It’s gonna be entertaining. 
  * You gotta tell a story. 
  * You can’t be too obvious;
  * But, you can’t be too obscure either. 
  * You can’t double up on songs by the same artist, unless that’s your theme. 



Anyway, a good compilation, like so many things in life, is hard to do. 

There was a knock on my door. And before I can even say anything, Chaeyoung came in. “Hey, Jeongyeonnie. What are you up to?”

I shrugged. “Just making a playlist.”

“Oh. What’s it for?” That piqued the younger girl’s interest.

“You know, just playing around.”

Chaeyoung regards her for a beat, before answering. “Cool. Um, I don’t want to interrupt you, but I think you better see this.”

“What’s up?” Frowning, I glanced at the window and saw Jihyo with a customer, female and from the looks of her, this is definitely not a place where she usually shops.

“We need your input.”

I got out of the office to see what’s happening. My best friend is standing there, glaring at the girl, who is obviously annoyed.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” I asked, after giving Jihyo a warning look that she, needless to say, ignored.

“This… person who’s clearly only been listening to songs from Billboard Top 100 is trying to buy the _Fleetwood Mac_ ’s _Rumour_ record for her boyfriend.”

“Shit.” Shit. How can I sell that to this lady, who obviously don’t have any idea how important that piece of art is.

“It’s his birthday.”

Though, we are a fucking record store for fuck’s sake. I couldn’t deny this person the record just because we already concluded how bad her music taste was (and how we already assumed that this lady’s boyfriend only wanted it because apparently listening to these songs’ a trend now). I have this store to earn some freaking coins.

“Chaeng, can you grab it, please? Third row, besides those cassette tapes.” 

The younger girl was already holding it even before I finished my sentence.

Jihyo looked at me in disbelief. Then stared. Then glared. Like she’s mentally telling me something, or, swearing at me. 

“I’m very sorry, but I don’t think I can sell that to you.” I sighed, glanced at Jihyo who nodded, satisfied.

“Oh, okay,” the lady, exasperated, shakes her head before heading to the exit.

But, music is to be shared.

“Ugh, those fucking tracks! All right, yeah! Fuck it. I’ll give it to you.” I finally decided.

“Hold up! What are you doing, Jeongyeon-ah?” 

“It’s nice to have someone listen to this record an— “ Chaeyoung defended my decision, but was cut off by Jihyo shushing her.

“There’s no point in holding this record hostage. It will benefit the society to have another two-legged creature listen to it. And besides, this is not their best work.”

All the occupants in the room stared at me. 

“What? This band is more about the drama,” I defended myself.

Jihyo pointed at me. “You fucking listen to _Taylor Swift_!”

“Hey! She’s one of the greatest songwriters of our generation!” I said, defensively. “Okay, you still listen to that girl who used queer baiting, so— “

“Are you fucking serious?” Jihyo interjects while Chaeyoung snickers at that. “having a sick sense of humor in a lone track is a tiny bit different than a whole discography about exes.”

“Actually, both of them are really good,” Chaeyoung joins in.

Jihyo turned her attention to the younger girl. “You know what, Chae— “

“But, Jihyo-unnie and Jeongyeon-unnie, what if, we just respect everyone’s taste in music even though they are absolutely repulsive?” 

“Wh— “

“Hey, can you guys, just sell me the record?” Oh, I forgot about the lady. “So, what’s gonna be?”

I’m done with this conversation. Chuckling, I said, “You guys figure this out,” then walks back to my office.

I can hear them shouting rock, paper, scissors.

The most important track is Number One. It’s gotta be familiar but also unexpected. But most importantly, it’s gotta make you feel good.

Track 1: _This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody) by Talking Heads_

Nayeon always made me feel good.

To be honest, I never had a crush on her, and that it used to worry me about the long-term future. Because I liked her so much— I still do, thank you very much— and I used to think that maybe I only thought I did was so I can get inside her pants. But then, I realized that crushes usually are just a violent shove into a relationship to get it started. But with her, it’s a slow, gradual process. It’s gentle and calm. And warmer.

With Nayeon, I changed my mind about that whole thing for a while. There weren’t any grand confessions of love or big romantic gestures or sleepless nights for either of us. And we carried on, anyway, because somehow we both knew how we felt for each other. And we never really have to look around to see what we’d got, because we already got each other. I didn’t know if you understand what I mean, but I hope you do.

Before, she would cook us dinner. It was kinda sweet really because Nayeon is not really that good in the kitchen, but she was making an effort, especially that night.

“Okay, here’s what I got. _Taylor Swift_ , _Lady Gaga_ , _Lorde_ , _Carly Rae Jepsen_ and _Adele_.” Looking at Nayeon, I was satisfied with my list.

Nayeon narrowed her eyes at her, accusingly. “What about _Ariana Grande_?”

“I know, I thought about that, but what am I gonna do, not have _Carly Rae Jepsen_?”

“You told me that _thank u, next_ was a ‘cultural reset.’”

“I know. I said that. But, _Runaway With Me_! The sax! Even without her other tracks, she earns a spot just for that song!” 

“Hmm, yeah, I’ll give her that.” Nayeon chuckled and then kissed my cheek. “Wait, I gotta go stir the sauce.” She stood up not before giving her a peck on the lips.

“Okay, cook, unnie,” I sarcastically said, earning a laugh from the older girl.

“Why can’t it just be ‘Top Six?’” Nayeon asked from the kitchen, teasing.

“Very funny.” 

It was such a lovely night. We ate her red sauce pasta, which was surprisingly good. And later that evening, Nayeon even had a glass of wine or two. It was such a lovely night that I spilled my drink on my shirt and I had to change.

And that was when I found a small, red velvet box in Nayeon’s side of the drawer.

Later that day, I wasn’t in the mood for anything, so I left work early, leaving Chaeyoung and Jihyo to close the shop.

“Yo. Lock up, okay? I’m out.”

“You’re leaving? It’s Friday. No drinks?” Chaeyoung asked.

“Nope.”

“Seriously?” 

“I’m going home. You guys have fun,” I gave the younger girl a thumb’s up.

Jihyo, who was listening, slowly walked towards Chaeyoung and gave her a questioning look. “Chaeng, does she seem sadder than usual or is it just the weather?”

“Well, she’s been kinda something today,” she answered as she packed up her things. “I may actually go check on her later. You should come with.”

“All right. Might as well check if she’s okay.” Jihyo nodded. “She’s always a little something.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. She started smoking again. She’s been listening to _Bleachers_.” Chaeyoung stopped, then frowned. “And she’s been working on this playlist. She’s just been kinda… something.”

“ _Bleachers_?” Asked Jihyo. 

The younger girl looked at Jihyo. “Oh, yeah, I remembered. Nayeon-unnie is back in town.”

“You should have started this conversation with that.”

Friday night I reorganized my record collection. I often do this when I’m emotionally stressed. There are some people who would find this a pretty boring way of spending my evening, but I’ve always been comforted by doing this. 

When Nayeon was here, she would help me arrange it in chronological order while listening to our favorite songs. But that night though, I prefer something different, so I try to remember the order I got them. 

The moment I was finished, I’m filled with a sense of gratification with my new filing system, because this gave me the feeling of security. I had made something complicated, simple.

And it also helps finding new songs for my playlist.

Okay, so, track two.

There needs to be an element of… surprise.

Because what you’re saying here is:

Keep listening.

There might be more here than you thought.

There’s a loud banging on my apartment door. Fuck, who is it, at this hour?

Opening the door, I saw Chaeyoung, who was holding a case of beer and Jihyo, who just barged into my apartment. I glared at them. “What are you guys doing here?”

“This is an emergency,” Chaeyoung replied, following a chuckling Jihyo inside the room.

“Speaking of emergencies,” Jihyo said, as she looked around the apartment. “What the hell, Jeongyeonnie! You need to clean!” Then the song playing in the background caught her attention. “Ooh, Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together! Amen, sister.”

They both grabbed a bottle of beer, before Chaeyoung asked, “Are you gonna include that song to your playlist?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet,” I said as I watched them settle down on my couch like they live here.

“Yo, I gotta tell you the truth. I kinda like Sad Jeongyeon,” Jihyo confessed before grabbing my phone checking out my queued songs. “Sad Jeongyeon has good taste.”

“You know, you really shouldn’t put two songs from the same album.”

“Oh, you gotta put _Motown_ on your playlist! A fucking must. You gotta get the grove on.”

Chaeyoung and Jihyo are talking over one another.

“Okay, guys, what’s up?” I said loudly to get their attention. “What is this about?”

“We’re gonna go check out this girl, Yeji, at the local bar downtown. It’s sort of like _Sza_ meets _Kehlani_ kind of vibe. But not totally r&b, but more like pop, with like soul.” Chaeyoung explained.

“I think I’m good. I’m gonna stay in.”

“She’s busy,” Jihyo air quoted that, while glaring at me. “We’re gonna get wasted. So, you know what, if you want to stay here and die alone— “

Chaeyoung glared at my best friend in my defense, then stood up and dragged Jihyo out of my apartment. “We’re gonna go.”

“Thanks for stopping by, kids.”

“You know where we’ll be,” Jihyo yelled before shutting the door.

Tonight is about quiet contemplation. Tonight I will go deep. Tonight… I go to my shit, deep.

Track 2: _Let’s Stay Together by Al Green_

You probably guessed what’s inside that velvet box. 

I left, you see, that night before Nayeon was supposed to propose to me.

“Hey, Jeongyeon-ah,” she said with her favorite pajamas on. “Where are you going?”

Grabbing my jacket as fast as I can. “I’m just gonna run down to the convenient store real fast.”

“Right now? It’s late.”

“Yes, unnie. I forgot to buy Bami his cat litter. He gets antsy without something to shit on. So I— I’m gonna go real quick,” I replied without looking at her. 

“Okay. You know that the new episode of _Killing Eve_ would be up in, like, minutes.”

“Yeah, I’ll be back in a flash.”

“Okay. Be careful,” I heard her say after closing the door.

“Fuck.”

I actually did go to the convenient store. And I honestly needed to buy stuff for my cat. I also bought a pack of smoke. But, I didn’t really go straight back to my apartment. 

Yeah, I need to get out of here.

“Hey! Seven minutes and thirteen seconds,” Jihyo swooped, extending her palm to Chaeyoung, who is cursing under her breath. “Pay up, unnie!”

“No, you said under 7 minutes,” the younger girl argued but was smiling.

They were sitting on the sidewalk outside my apartment building, obviously waiting for me. These fuckers really know me so well.

Jihyo passed me one of the beers they bought earlier. “Yeah, and that didn’t include the seconds.”

“I’ve decided it’s actually easier for me to pay up than to have a discourse with you about the importance of seconds,” said Chaeyoung as she reached for her pocket.

“Whatever you say,” Jihyo snickered then stood up. “Come on, Jeongyeonnie, let’s get drunk!”

Okay. Next track.

Track 3: _Songbird by Fleetwood Mac_

They decided to walk our way to the bar. We stopped by the nearest convenient store and I bought a pack of cigarettes which earned a glare from the other two. And again, we had another stop over when Jihyo saw one of her acquaintances.

Lighting my cigarette, I noticed Chaeyoung studying me. 

“So, the playlist… What’s the theme?” The younger girl finally spoke up.

I didn’t have to think that hard to answer the question. I already know what it is. “Love, I guess.”

“Cool. Classic,” Chaeyoung nodded. She wasn’t saying anything and just waiting for me to talk.

“I ran into Nayeon,” I sighed, finally saying it.

“Yeah, I know,” The younger girl smiles at me, encouragingly. “So… Unnie’s back?”

“Yup. She’s back.”

“You gonna send it to her? The playlist?” 

“Oh! God, no,” I almost yelled. “It’s not, it’s like a therapy, for me.”

And it’s true.

“That’s actually good. Yeah. Makes sense,” Chaeyoung patted my arm. 

I smiled at her. She always understands. That’s why I care about her.

“I’m back,” Jihyo shouts. “Let’s go!”

And this obnoxious one, too.

Next track.

Track 4: _There Is a Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths_

The three of us finally arrived at the bar. It’s an enormous place, with ceilings so high and might seem a bit fancy, if it weren’t for the neighborhood hippies that came here to have a beer or just by stand. We don’t come here that often, but if we do it is only to check the bands that usually play here which no one barely listens to and, most of the time, suck. We’ll just spend the night drinking and make fun of them.

Tonight, though, the place is nearly full. I can hear lots of them whispering something about the artist playing, which means that most of them were here for her.

The artist we have come to see is called Hwang Yeji. Chaeyoung told us about her on our way here and according to her, the girl got a record deal in a respected label already and was apparently good.

We already had our second drink when Hwang Yeji came onstage and five minutes afterwards, it seems like my frustration and annoyance for the past few days had vanished.

There are many songs that I’ve been trying to avoid since Nayeon left, but the song that Hwang Yeji opens with, the song that left me awestruck, is not one of them. The song used to— not anymore— make me puke. It was a hit, back in the day, and everyone in school seems to have the same idea of playing it over and over again to the point that even listening to the first note of the song made me want to vomit. The song that left me awed is Hwang Yeji’s version of _Mariah Carey_ ’s ‘ _We Belong Together_.’

Imagine me, Jihyo and Chaeyoung, with our beer in our hands in the middle of the dance floor, mouths opened, staring on the stage. Well, that was actually happening at the moment.

“I used to hate this song,” I said, eyes still fixed on the performing artist.

“Me, too,” Chaeyoung and Jihyo replied in chorus.

“Now, I kinda like it.” 

“Me, too.”

“If I wasn’t bi before, I’m probably am, right now,” Jihyo added.

It doesn’t stop there. Yeji is pretty, in the traditional Korean beauty way— she looks like a mix of those two popular groups here— and I really dig her hair. As a result of Hwang Yeji’s cover version of ‘ _We Belong Together_ ,’ I might have developed a crush on her.

Yeji finished her set after an hour or so. She walks on the side of the stage where there’s a table with the artist’s EP on top of them. I only have enough money to buy myself another round of drinks, I bet my two companion too, but we still bought one for each of us. And to our horror, she speaks to us.

“Are you guys having a good time?”

We nod.

“That’s great!”

“Cool. Cool. Cool,” I said, and that seems to be the only word I know for the moment.

My brain might've completely shut down, so I just stand there playing with the hem of my jacket.

“Are you guys from around here?” She asked.

“Not far from here, actually. We heard you moved here,” Chaeyoung replied. Way to go, Chaeng, way to make us seem like we’re stalking her. 

“Yeah. This is sort of a random question. But do you guys know any good record shops around here? I haven’t had the chance to explore the city. So… “

What are the chances that this attractive girl was looking for something that I can effortlessly provide.

Chaeyoung and Jihyo almost fall over in their haste to explain.

“She owns one!”

“Twice Vinyl!”

“We work there!”

“You should come check it out!”

Yeji laughs at the enthusiastic answers. “I will, for sure.”

We have been holding the line of people interested in her EP so we nicely smiled at her then turned around not before she asked me my name.

“I’m Yeji, by the way. What’s yours?”

“Oh, I’m Jeongyeon. Cool set, Yeji.”

We go back to where we were standing.

“What did you tell her about the shop for?” I ask the others.

“I didn’t think it was classified information,” says Jihyo. “I mean, we don’t have customers and I thought that was a bad thing. It’s a business strategy.”

“She won’t come in. And if she did, she’s just gonna waste our time.”

“No, of course not. That’s why she asked us about any good record shop, to waste our time.”

I know I’m being stupid, but I don’t want her coming to my shop. If she came then I might like her and then I’d probably be preoccupied. And I don’t want that. 

I want to be reminded of what I felt— feel for Nayeon, everyday, every damn time.

I don’t want to move on.

I only want her.

And on the way home, I’m already reminiscing our moments together. Thinking of the things she made me feel. Things we could have been.

The last track is tough. 

It’s the last thing they’re gonna hear, and thus, the only thing they’re gonna remember.

So you’ve got to bring your message home.

Track 5: _Your Song by Elton John_

It was late when I got home. The apartment was dark and quiet. I found Bami and apologized to him for making her wait at the door. There’s no sign of Nayeon. 

Placing the cat litter I got from the convenient store earlier, I peeked inside my bedroom and found her sleeping, wrapped in our shared blanket and hugging my pillow. She looks so small and so… alone in my bed. 

I walked quietly towards the side of the bed and sat in the corner of the bed, watching Nayeon sleep. There was a slight crease in her forehead, like she was having a bad dream. And I want to soothe it but fuck. I put that there, that frown, I left her here when she wanted to spend her time with me, when she wanted to spend her whole life together with me.

“Nayeon-unnie.” God, I feel sick. And even sicker, when Nayeon looked at me, eyes red from crying.

“Where have you been?” Her voice, hoarse.

“I was at the bar.” 

I was fucking drinking at some random bar while someone was waiting for me.

Nayeon sniffed. “You smell like alcohol and cigarettes.”

“I needed to think,” I said, looking anywhere but her. “I found the engagement ring.”

I heard her exhale heavily and felt the bed move as Nayeon positioned herself beside me. “Why didn’t you tell me, Jeongyeon-ah.”

“Because I was scared.”

“I can see that,” Nayeon took my hand, squeezing it lightly. “But you could have said something.”

I nodded. I didn’t notice I was crying until Nayeon wiped my tears with her free hand. Even after what I did, she was still here holding me.

We look at each other. And when I mustered up the courage to tell her what I want, I said, “I’m not scared, anymore. Let’s get married.” I murmured, “If you’re still into that idea.”

“I am. I want to marry you,” Nayeon confessed, intertwining our fingers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I said before we kiss.

_for nayeon_

_1\. This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody) by Talking Heads_

_2\. Let’s Stay Together by Al Green_

_3\. Songbird by Fleetwood Mac_

_4\. There Is a Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths_

_5\. Your Song by Elton John_

I hit send. And it was the last thing I did before I fell asleep.

The next thing I knew, I was awakened by the loud buzzing of my phone. And checked it. It was a message from Tzuyu— Nayeon’s friend— asking me if i’m free for lunch today and she would like to hang out with me. 

I debated in my head if I really wanted to meet her because, of course, Nayeon, but she’s always been nice to me. And I have grown closer to her during all those years that her friend and I dated. It stays like that even after Nayeon and I broke up, with exchange of messages from time to time.

So I agreed.

Like her friend, Tzuyu is beautiful, though she was taller, while her friend was in a smaller side, and can look a little intimidating at times. I’m still intimidated by her. 

When I first met her, I was not sure if it was the idea that I’m gonna meet Nayeon’s friend or that Tzuyu seemed cool at that time, I was nervous and stupid that I ended up blushing and a blubbering mess the whole dinner while the two friends are giggling at me.

Eventually, I got comfortable with her and we hung out even without Nayeon. And sometimes we would tease Nayeon because she would get jealous of Tzuyu spending a lot of time with me. It doesn’t help that Nayeon pointed out that her friend adores me very much. She takes good care of me, like I’m part of their small family.

And like Nayeon, she’s a good-hearted person and has a warm personality.

It was such a happy time.

I met Tzuyu early that noon. She’s still nice to me. Asked how I was and what I was doing nowadays. And if I’m taking care of myself. She listens to everything I say and she is genuinely interested in what I’m saying. And she said how sorry she is for how it ended.

“Both of you have done each other good. You allowed Nayeon-unnie, given her career and single-mindedness on her goal, to bring out herself and helped her to be more relaxed.” 

And I don’t know how to reply to that. 

Tzuyu seems to sense that so she changed the topic, well, not totally. “Nayeon-unnie moved back here. I think you should know.”

“First of all, thank you for telling me,” Jeongyeon smiles at the younger girl. “But I, I already know. I ran into her on the street last week.”

“Oh, so are you okay?” Asked Tzuyu, concerned.

“Umm, it was fine. It was good. We caught up,” I replied brightly. I don’t want Tzuyu to worry. “No problem. It’s all good.” I added. “And, please, Tzuyu, you don’t have to be careful with me. I can handle it.”

“I know,” Tzuyu sighed. “I just wanted you to know that I always have your back.”

“I know that. Thank you.”

“Thank god. To be honest, I don’t even think much of that Sungjin guy for her.” 

What Sungjin guy?

I can still hear Tzuyu talking, but my mind is somewhere else. I keep repeating those words in my head and wondering if I heard that right. And in the last minutes, I have been spacing off, it finally registered to me that Nayeon is dating someone else.

“Unnie? Jeongyeon-unnie? Are you okay?”

Nope, I’m not okay.

What fucking Sungjin guy!


	4. What Fucking Guy?

What fucking Sungjin guy?

I don’t know anyone called Sungjin. Nayeon, as I remember, doesn’t know anybody called Sungjin either.

How do I know this?

We’ve known each other for three years, and been together for the most of it and I’ve never heard her mention a Sungjin. There’s no Sungjin at her work. She hasn’t got any friends called Sungjin, and she hasn’t got any friends with partners called Sungjin either. I won’t say that she has never met anyone called Sungjin in her whole life and last I checked, she lived in a completely Sungjin-less universe.

So, if Nayeon does know a Sungjin in the big city of Seoul, she had to have met him in the short time she’s been back.

She’s been back for a couple of weeks and she met someone already. 

Cool. Fucking cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool.

Couple of weeks? How serious could that even be?

I mean, what do people who have been together for a few weeks even do?

They have kissed. Just constantly going out for dates. And, maybe, sex.

I barely managed to block out the worst, most painful, most disturbing image in my head when I thought of that. This is the very worst thing, the thing that would bring anybody in my position out in the coldest and disgusting of sweats.

When someone leaves, the other party is sad (and yes, finally, after all the numbness and the stupid optimism and the nonchalant shrug off by the shoulders, I admit that I am in fact upset, disappointed and ultimately sad). Is this what it’s all about? I definitely went through this period, after my other exes, of imagining them with other people doing it, and I had never, ever felt this dread.

I received a message later that afternoon from Tzuyu, apologizing earlier about lunch and for bringing up the Sungjin thing, and that she thought I knew since I worked with Chaeyoung.

Apparently Chaeyoung knew about it, too. And she told me (after saying she only heard the news last week and followed with: “no offense, I love you, but you tend to overthink things a little. Remember when you broke up with Sunmi-unnie and you spent, like, a whole month just listening to _The Cure_ and threatening to punch random people,” and that I tend to freak out, shut down and spend my time just thinking and muttering to myself about what went wrong) how long they are dating.

“Look, whatever. It’s not like it’s serious, okay,” I said stammering a little, acting nonchalant. “She’s been back in town for, like a second. It’s fine.”

Chaeyoung, then, looked anywhere but me, jittery. She sighed, “they moved here together. They’ve been dating for six months.”

“Six fucking months?” I shouted. “We just broke up a year ago!”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Chaeyoung calmly said. “I didn’t tell you since I know you’ll react this way. And it’s not my place.”

And the younger girl was right. 

“Don’t apologize, Chaeng. It’s fine, all right,” Collecting myself, I added, “I’m not that stupid. It was bound to happen at some point. Nayeon has a new boyfriend.” 

“You just gotta get over this Nayeon thing all right. Like, just find something to occupy your time. Some kind of distraction. Anything.”

I smiled at her, thankful.

“And he’s probably just some boring dude,” Jihyo interjects, as she came inside the office, probably heard the whole conversation. Then, she coughed, “Oh, by the way, she’s here.”

“Who’s in here?” I asked.

“Yeji. That fine-ass singer from last night, is in the shop.”

Chaeyoung and I immediately stood up from where we were sitting and glanced at the window. 

Yeji comes into the shop before closing. We were playing her EP, and when I saw her scrolling through our records, I tapped Chaeyoung beside me. “We should probably turn off her music.”

“On it.”

The three of us went out of the office and awkwardly greeted Yeji.

“Sorry. Gonna turn that off,” I said as she began to walk towards me. She giggled and said something about it, and then I turned it back on again, blushing slightly.

Yeji was saying something about how nice my shop was and I was kind of embarrassed and nervous, and preventing me from making a fool out of myself by asking her out for a drink then she would turn me down flat and I’d feel like an idiot. So, I excused myself, saying something about being busy— I heard Chaeyoung and Jihyo snickering— and went back to the office and didn’t come out until she left. Chaeyoung and Jihyo sold her a few records.

They exploded into the room, dancing a little before saying. “She invited us to her gig tonight at JYP lounge. And we’re on the guest list! All three of us.”

The last few hours, I experienced a lot. I had humiliated myself in front of somebody I might be interested in, and found out that Nayeon was dating someone else.

I don’t want to go to the JYP lounge.

I can’t go to a show right now.

Yeji is hot. But, umm, I’m kind of in a weird place.

And this state, this Sungjin-atheism, lasts until I get home. On the windowsill of my apartment where Nayeon put her post-it reminders, something about meeting with potential customers and suppliers did I remember, the guy who owned the company supplying for Nayeon’s business.

I’m shaking when I remember Park Sungjin. I knew it was him the moment I saw those notes. I remember Nayeon going up to meet him a couple of times. I remember Nayeon doing business meetings with him and certainly telling stories about how polite and respectful the guy was. He would be just anyone’s dream boyfriend— rich, handsome and kind— someone that your parents would be proud of you dating. I didn’t think much about him then, and I fucking hate him now.

I should say, even though I did not feel like saying it, that I think I’m an okay person. I can even say that I’m a bit attractive. Some people in my circle told me that I’m charming and a good looking girl. I’m a bit tall, not slim, not fat. I kept myself clean and an okay dresser, with my bohemian, kind of an indie artist vibe though sometimes I prefer baggy clothes. I’m not rich, but I have enough savings to survive and a shop for my everyday expenses. I definitely believe that my mother raised me to be a polite and well-mannered person, I think.

I know enough to know what Nayeon likes.

So, ‘Sungjin’ and Nayeon bothers me so much.

During that evening, I couldn’t stop my head from creating images of Nayeon and Sungjin being perfect together, Nayeon laughing, Nayeon kissing him and both of them listening to music. And I’m pleased to think that it was just in my head. But the pleasure only lasts for a few seconds and then everything sinks in: Somewhere, they are really doing all those things and Nayeon is really doing it with him and I’m here, a twenty-something year old girl, in my apartment, on my own, alone.

And it is only beginning to occur to me that it’s important to have something going on somewhere, at home or at work, otherwise I’m just clinging on.

I clear away the reminder in my apartment— the post its, the extra pillow on the couch, the blanket lying in my bed, the coffee mug with a cute dog in the kitchen. I put the _Strange Desire_ record on, and when I listened to _I Wanna Get Better_ , I opened a bottle of beer, sat down and smoked some cigarettes.

I still wonder if my Mum has psychic power or something but she ended up calling me at this very moment.

“Hello, honey.”

“Mum, hi.”

“Everything’s all right?”

“I’m good.”

“Are you having a good week?”

“It’s alright.”

“How’s the shop doing?”

“Same old. Same old.” I have a feeling that she didn’t call me to ask if my business is thriving since it’s been the same for years. This is about something else. That something else is Nayeon. She probably heard it from somebody.

“I’m worried about you.”

“Yeah, thanks. But I told you, I’m fine.”

“You probably know that Nayeon’s back. Her mum called me. You two were perfect for each other.”

She’s gone, Mum. She left me. Nayeon had moved on. I want to say, but nope. Can’t do it. I don’t want her to add to the list of people who constantly worry for me and my state of mind.

“All is good. It wasn’t the right fit, I guess… “

I don’t know how to feel knowing that my Mum and Nayeon’s family are close and still in contact with each other even after the fall out. I’ve witnessed them before, chatting up like they have known each other for over decades.

“I’m surprised that you are not ignoring us again and went to beg her to get back together.”

Come on, Jeongyeon. Don’t let her words get to you. Don’t talk about it. Don’t… fucking hell.

“Mum, she left me. Moved on. Already dating a nice lad. So please, you should, too.”

“She’s with someone else?”

“Yes, Mum. Just… Can we not talk about it?”

There is a long silence. The silence is long enough for me to know that my mom is thinking carefully about what she’s about to say.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

And now I can hear something— the sound of my mother crying softly. What the fuck? What is it with my mother and Nayeon? Why does she love Nayeon so much— oh, I know, out of all the people, why. I don’t regret introducing my family to Nayeon’s because we became this sort of big, loud extended family, but hearing my mother this upset, made me. And my Mum and I are close and similar in that she kind of conveys what I feel, too.

“Mum, come on. It’s true, I’m fine. You don’t have to be this upset.”

“I can’t help it, hon. She was so good for you.”

“And I know that. But she left. She doesn’t want me anymore. Both of us should just accept that.” It’s so painful to say that, but I have to, I have to finally acknowledge that.

“What are you going to do now, Jeongyeon?”

“I’m going out with my friends later. Then maybe meet a nice girl or something.”

“If only it was that easy.”

“It’s not. But it’s not bad to think about it, right?

She’s almost smiling. I can hear it. I’m beginning to see some promise in the situation.

“But I still don't know why she left.”

“Knowing won’t change what happened, mum. Just let it be.” Just let it be, Jeongyeon.

“Okay, Jeongyeon-ah. Take care of yourself. And please, please for god’s sake the next girl you date should know how to cook.”

I know she was just kidding. But I guess, it’s not a bad idea.

“Yes, mum. Be careful. Love you.”

“Love you, too, honey.”

After that, I called Chaeyoung to ask them about the gig. And well, you guessed, that the younger girl and Jihyo were already in JYP. She yelled, or both of them did: “Hey, Jeongyeonnie, come here. Yeji’s set is about to start.” Those fuckers didn’t even wait for me. 

I hailed a cab outside my building, which I don’t usually do since, fuck, they are expensive. I was bitter about spending a bit of money for a short ride.

The JYP lounge is the spot. Our spot.

It was smaller than the other bar, so it’s full. It was much nicer too, and the drinks are cheaper. 

It is just one of the only places that feels like home to me.

Plus, me and Nayeon had our first kiss here, so… there’s that.

Okay, some good shit here:

  * I got to the bar and caught up with the second verse of _We Belong Together_ though I was still thinking about the cab fare.
  * I didn’t feel as awed as before during it, though I felt slightly sick.
  * We got a mention: “Is Jeongyeon, Chaeyoung and Jihyo I see down there? Nice to see you again, guys!”
  * Free promotion, I guess: “You guys should check out, Twice Vinyl!”
  * After the set, Yeji hangs out with us.



I know my self-esteem was not high at the moment, and I know that most women are not really interested in other women. But I’m definitely sure that Yeji was flirting with me. And Chaeyoung and Jihyo noticed that too.

We were sitting at a round table. Yeji offered me the seat beside her, and the moment she did that I’m lost, gone away. But immediately starts to worry that Chaeyoung or Jihyo would tell embarrassing stories about me, then she’ll lose interest and, as she had no interest in the first place, that would put me into an awkward situation.

Chaeyoung and Jihyo are arguing about everything or Jihyo sharing her ideas for her 'album' which she’s been talking about for years. And we’d been teasing her about it, asking about what her sound was and all those questions about her music and Jihyo would only say: “good art takes time.”

And Yeji was listening but then she turned to me and asked me if everything was alright.

I shrugged.

I can hear Chaeyoung and Jihyo whispering to each other after that. 

“They seem into each other.”

“Yeah, I know. Thank God. Jeongyeon-unnie needs a break.”

Maybe, they were right. I needed a break. I needed a distraction. And as far as distractions go, it could be worse.

So, if Chaeyoung said that, it’s not what you’re like but what you like that matters, then Yeji and I are Exhibit A. We bond over books, TV, music, films. We express our shared opinions on _Phoebe Waller-Bridge_ , _Taylor Swift_ and pop music. 

The evening went well and I can kind of see what’s supposed to happen but you can’t believe it’s ever going to get there, even though afterwards it seems obvious.

When I begin to get the feeling that we’re having a good time, I give her chances to get away. But when I don’t share my thoughts on the topic, Yeji would ask me directly. 

Later that night, Chaeyoung and Jihyo were so drunk that they had to excuse themselves. 

“I gotta go home. I’m done,” Chaeyoung said, hugging me.

“Yo, Jeongyeon-ah. I gotta tell you the truth,” Jihyo slurring a little. “Gonna be late on Monday.”

“You’re late everyday,” I pointed out, laughing.

“You know me so well. That’s why I love you.”

“Alright. You guys, be careful.”

“You, too. Bye Jeongyeonnie!”

And I’m kind of drunk too, that while I was waiting for Yeji, I imagined Nayeon was the one who comes out of the door, smiling with those beautiful dimples of hers.

“Hey, you ready?” a female voice asked. It was Yeji.

Well, you see, she invited me back to her place. And it’s not like I enthusiastically agreed. 

So, her place is very much like my apartment. It’s so much like my place before. There was a new record player on the table on the corner and there was a collection of books, albums and DVDs, and there was a small cozy piece of furniture too. It’s so depressing that Yeji just moved here but it looked like she’s already settling in while my own place looked like someone just dumped their stuff there. It looked so empty without Nayeon things in there.

She went to play one of the _The Temptations_ records and went to the kitchen to grab us a bottle of wine (she didn’t asked me If I wanted one when I prefer beer, but this was the first bum note she did all evening so I don’t feel like complaining) and we sat down on the couch. I ask her questions about her hometown, about her record deal, and other people there. She also asked me loads of questions about my ex, and she talked well about her. She was understanding of my situation and even joked a bit— she has a dry, self-deprecating humor like me.

It felt kind of intimate, even for me to talk about these things about Nayeon to her. 

I have completely forgotten how it happened but after that we were kissing, and half of me is telling myself not to worry, and the other half is feeling pleased with myself, and these two halves didn’t make a whole for me and it left room to think about shit in my life. I start wondering whether I have ever really enjoyed this sort of stuff, the physical sensation or whether it’s just something I felt like I should do. I squeezed my eyes shut to get rid of these thoughts. And when the train stopped, we were no longer on the couch but instead making out in her bed. 

You’ve probably guessed what happened next.

“Are you okay?” Yeji asked me after we were done.

“Yeah,” I nod. “You?”

“I am. But I wouldn’t be if you thought that this is a one time thing.”

When I was a teenager, I used to lie awake at night hoping that women would say things like that to me. But now, it just makes me panic.

“Is it?”

“No. In that case, I’ll fix us something to eat. I don’t have any supplies, right now. Are eggs good?” 

“Yup,” I replied. I followed her to the kitchen to get myself another drink. I need it so I’ll have an excuse if nothing happens, or if things happen too quickly.

“You know, I really thought you didn’t like me.” she says. “You’d never said more than two words to me before this evening.”

“Did that pique your interest?”

“Kind of, I guess,” Yeji said. “Not to be that person, but I’m used to people seeking my attention. And my ex was a bit on the obsessive side so… “

“So, um… how long ago was that person?”

“We broke up last year. After my high school graduation.”

After high schoo— what?

“I’m sorry. How old are you?”

“Nineteen.” 

She’s a fucking kid!

“Um… uh… I just remembered that I have an early thing tomorrow,” I have to excuse myself. “I have to go.”

As far as I’m concerned, I absolutely have nothing against dating someone younger— way younger in this case. It’s just the idea doesn’t sit well with me, right now.

Yeji looked at me. “What? I— I mean, we still got this snack.” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” I said as I picked up my clothes on the floor. “I just need to go.”

“Okay, yeah, cool.” Yeji followed me as I made my way to the door. “I have a lot of stuff lined up this week but I can— I mean, can I call you?”

“Sure. Give me a call. Bye.”

What’s wrong with me? Nothing and everything. Nothing: We are both adults, we had a good evening, we had sex, we even had a nice conversation. Everything: I kept trying to looking for something wrong and kept having thoughts about my stupid shit. 

It doesn’t feel better. Why don’t I feel better? Why do I never get any better?

Why do all my relationships end with me feeling like this?

Okay.

What’s fucking wrong with me? Seriously?

I need answers.

I need to know.

The morning after, I rummaged my old stuff to look for my high school yearbook. And there I found what I’m looking for.

So, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number.

It took three rings before someone answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this the Hirai residence?”

“Yes.”

“Hi! Umm, this is Yoo Jeongyeon? I’m an old friend of Momo’s? I used to live across the street from you?”

“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“Yoo Jeongyeon? I was just wondering if you had a number I could reach her at or— “

“I’m sorry. But Momo already moved to Japan with Sana.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“They moved there to get married and haven’t come back since.”

“Oh.”

“You can reach her on Facebook if you’d like. I gotta go now. Have a great day.”

Holy shit.

Momo and Sana are still together. She married her. They are married. They married each other. Kissed me behind the bleachers. Kissed Momo behind the bleachers, married Sana.

This is tremendous.

The end of our relationship had nothing to do with me, or any failings on my part and I can feel the Hirai Momo scar healing over.

It was fate. It was destiny. It was beyond my control.

I am… fine now. 

I want more. I wanna talk to all the others in the big Top Five: Myoui Mina, the nice girl who wouldn’t let me touch her. Son Chaeyoung, whom I formed a great bond with. Lee Sunmi, I have to thank her for lifting my self confidence. And Nayeon. Especially Nayeon. I need to know. What exactly? I don’t know. Just talk. See how they all are and ask whether they have forgiven me for fucking things up. 

Feelings can’t be so different, can they? I’d like to talk to them and say good luck and goodbye, then they’d feel good and I’d feel good. Well, maybe they won’t feel good but I’ll feel great.

Break the pattern of heartbreak. 

Free myself.

Wouldn’t that be great? If I saw all of them in turn and there were no hard feelings left, I’d feel clean, and calm and ready to start again.


End file.
